


Glow

by ShipThePuppy



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Furi is a bubbly cutie, Gender Neutral Furihata at the Start, It Makes Sense When You Read It, Little Wishes AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-17
Updated: 2015-11-17
Packaged: 2018-05-02 02:12:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5229932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShipThePuppy/pseuds/ShipThePuppy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seijuurou never had any wishes of his own, but a small light said otherwise.</p><p>Or: A bubbly light and a somber child have much to learn from each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glow

**Author's Note:**

> On a posting spree tonight--take this little one-shot I did for a contest some time ago~ I was trying for something a little different.

Akashi Seijuurou was raised above frivolity. The perfect heir. The young gentleman.

Seijuurou did not despise these things. He lived a privileged life, and felt that the demands heaped upon him were only fitting tribute. The only one who encouraged any kind of playfulness within him was his mother.

“Make a wish,” she’d say, plucking the petals off a flower, whenever the clock struck 11:11, blowing the seeds from a dandelion, with one of his eyelashes stuck to her fingertip.

And Seijuurou would respond, “But I don’t have any wishes.”

Every time, her smile faltered briefly, but then picked back up. “That’s alright.”

Then she’d hold his hands, and say. “I’ll make a wish for you.”

So many wishes, uttered from her lips, all for him.

“I wish for Seijuurou to grow up strong.”

“I wish for Seijuurou to laugh.”

“I wish for Seijuurou to be happy.”

And then his fifth year of elementary school came, and with it a funeral, and suddenly there were no more wishes for her to give.

*****

Middle school was both a relief, and a stress.

“You’re an Akashi,” his father said. “You can achieve  _more_.”

But how much more was there? He’d mastered piano and violin, his grades were excellent, his basketball team was winning,  _what more could he possibly turn himself into?_

Standing by his window, Seijuurou watched as a single shooting star streaked across the sky. He thought of his mother, and her smile, and her love, and found his mouth opening.

“I wish…”

He stopped, his mouth pursed in a bitter line. What was he thinking? She was dead. Dead and gone, her presence removed, and no amount of wishes would change that.

Seijuurou turned out the light, and slipped beneath his blanket. He closed his eyes.

“Aren’t you going to finish it?”

His eyes shot open. He sat up, searching the room, but no one was there.

A glow came from his window. Soft and yellow, a small light phased through the glass like it was nothing, and came to a gentle hover above the bed, near his feet.

“Aren’t you going to finish it?”

The voice came again, young and sweet, from the light.

“Finish what?” he asked, half-certain he was dreaming.

“Your wish!” The light circled his head, and stopped just in front of his face. “You stopped halfway! You can’t leave a wish half-done!”

“What are you?”

“Your wish,” it answered. “You were going to make a wish on a shooting star. I’m your wish.”

“But that’s just stories.” Seijuurou clenched the bedsheets. “Shooting stars don’t grant wishes.”

“Not all of them,” the light said. “But some do. Otherwise, where would the stories have come from?”

It had a point, he supposed. Seijuurou sat back. “I don’t have a wish.”

“Whaaaat?” The light dropped to float over his knees. “But you were going to make one!”

“I don’t think this is a wish you can grant,” he explained.

“Try it.” The light glowed stronger. “You won’t know otherwise.”

Heart thumping in his chest, he whispered, “I wish my mother was alive.”

The light dimmed. “Sorry,” it said, and Seijuurou had the impression that it somehow wasn’t looking at him, “I can’t grant that one, after all. There aren’t any wishes that can bring back the dead.”

The light came up to his chest, and even though it shouldn’t have been possible, it felt like there was a distinct mass to it as it pressed to his chest. “I’m sorry,” it repeated, “please don’t cry.”

Seijuurou wiped his eyes, his throat burning. “I’m not,” he said, though his voice cracked.

The light was warm where it rested against him. “You can make another wish,” it promised. “I’ll wait for you.”

He sniffed. “That might be a while.”

It hummed. “I don’t mind.”

*****

The next morning Seijuurou expected for the previous night to have all been a dream, but when he woke up the light was there, not seeming as bright as it had in the dark, sitting by his head on the pillow.

“Good morning!” it said.

“Good morning,” he responded on reflex.

The light followed him as he prepared for school. It was a curious little thing, asking questions about everything. He made it swear to stay in his room while he was at school.

For months, every day when Seijuurou returned home, he would hear a pleasant, “Welcome back, Seijuurou!” when he entered his room.

It…was a nice sound.

The light was good company. It sat on his lap when he studied, or flew dizzying circles around the room until growing tired. It never ate, and he wasn’t sure if it slept. It would rest on his pillow, a dim, comforting light in the darkness, giving off a nearly inaudible hum, but whether that dimming counted as sleep he didn’t know.

Sometimes he’d tell the light about his day. “A girl gave me a letter today,” he shared. “I had to turn her down gently.”

The light grew quiet. “Seijuurou,” it eventually began, “what’s a girl?”

“It’s a gender,” he said, and turned in his desk chair to face the light. “Like how I’m a boy. There are others, too, but I don’t know much about them.”

“Oh.” The light came closer. “What am I?”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t think so.”

“There’s a name for that too, I think.” He tapped his fingers on the desk. “We can look things up, if you like? Maybe you’ll find one that feels right for you?”

The light shone brighter. “Can we?”

“Of course.”

Seijuurou pulled out his laptop, and together they spent the next two hours researching. There was more than he’d thought, and when they were done, even Seijuurou had learned new things.

“What do you think?” he asked.

The light drifted down, settling on the keyboard. “I think…I’m a boy.”

“Is that the one that feels best?”

“Yes,” the light said quietly, and then louder, more confident, “Yes!”

Seijuurou grinned. He stroked two fingers over the light, still amazed that there was anything tangible there to touch at all. “Then do you want a name, next?”

“A name?” The light grew warmer. “I’ve never had a name before. I want one.”

Another hour was spent reading aloud from name websites, but nothing seemed to settle right for the light.

“Kou?” Seijuurou read, methodically scrolling down the webpage. “Koue? Kouki—”

“Wait,” the light interrupted. “Say that one again.”

“Kouki.”

“That one!” The light flew in circles. “I like that one! I want to be Kouki.”

“Then you’re Kouki,” Seijuurou said.

“Kouki, I’m Kouki!” Kouki came to a stop in front of him. “And you’re Seijuurou.”

He laughed, holding out a hand so that Kouki could rest in his palm. “Yes, I am.”

“Seijuurou,” Kouki repeated. In a lower tone, he said, “I like it when you laugh. I wish you’d do it more.”

Seijuurou swallowed, and nearly bit his tongue. “Thank you.”

*****

It had been nearly a year since Seijuurou met Kouki, and the light had grown quiet in recent days. Not even taking Kouki on a trip to the trains, his favorite discovery yet, was enough to rouse him to previous levels of excitement.

That night, while they lay in bed, Seijuurou whispered, “What happens to you, after I make my wish?”

Kouki’s response came slow. “What always happens,” he said. “I don’t know where I go, but it’s warm there, and I can hear all these wishes being made.”

“Do you pick which ones you answer?”

Kouki hummed. “Mmhmm. But I hadn’t answered one for a looong time before I heard your voice.”

“Why did you choose my wish?” His impossible, unfinished wish.

“Because,” and it was the first time Kouki’s voice had ever sounded  _tired_  to Seijuurou’s ears, “it felt like you really needed one.”

*****

Days passed, and with each one, Kouki grew more and more quiet. Seijuurou suspected, but didn’t want to be right. He didn’t want to make a wish. He didn’t want Kouki to go away to that place of warmth and wishes, where he’d never see him again.

But the more Kouki faded, the more he feared that he wouldn’t have a choice.

The day he returned home and there was no voice to greet him, was the day he was proven right.

“Kouki? Kouki?!” Seijuurou searched his room, and finally found the little light on the floor by the bed. He dropped to his knees, and cupped him in his hands. He didn’t feel as warm as usual, and he barely glowed.

“Kouki, answer me!” he demanded.

“Seijuurou?” His voice sounded hushed and distant.

“What’s happening, Kouki?” He brought the light close to his face.

“I don’t know,” he said. “This has never happened before. I’ve never been away from that place for this long.”

And then he whispered, small and shaky, “I’m scared.”

Seijuurou’s heart pounded in his throat. “It’s okay, I’m here.” His voice cracked. “Kouki, what do I do? How do I help you?”

“Make a wish.” His words came out softer, like he was very far away. “Make a wish, Seijuurou.”

“But I’ll never see you again,” he finally admitted. “I don’t want you to go away.”

“I don’t want to go either,” Kouki said. “I want to stay with you. I want to learn more about you and this world together. I love you, Seijuurou.”

“I love you, too,” he murmured.

“Really?” Kouki’s glow flared for a brief moment, and then faded, even dimmer than previous.

“Yes.”

“I’m happy.” He paused. “I want to stay with you,” he repeated.

“Me, too.” And then he inhaled sharply. “That’s it!”

“Seijuurou?”

“My wish! Kouki,” he held his cupped hands to his chest, even as the light within began to flicker out. “Kouki, I wish you could stay with me!”

Kouki gasped, and then the light in his hands burst in a shower of golden flecks that fizzled out, one by one, until there was nothing left.

“Kouki?” Seijuurou stood up, and searched the room desperately. “Kouki?”

But no answer came. Kouki was gone.

*****

Soon after, one red eye turned to gold, and Akashi Seijuurou did his best to forget about the light missing from his room.

It was too bad that he was better at remembering things than forgetting them.

*****

Seijuurou’s eye didn’t return to normal until losing his first basketball match at the Winter Cup in high school. It was strange, afterward, feeling so calm for once. It had been a long time since he’d been able to say he was at peace.

He and his teammates were in the parking lot when a hesitant voice called out, “Excuse me?”

A boy his age, with eyes that matched the brown of his hair, maybe a bit darker, stood in front of him. He dressed plainly, with jeans and an orange sweatshirt protecting him from the chill.

“Do you need something?” As captain of the team, he stepped forward.

“Yes,” he said, “I was hoping to speak with you in private.”

He frowned, and confused whispers started up behind him from his peers. He waved them off. “Continue on, I’ll catch up momentarily.”

Once they were out of earshot, he turned his attention to the boy. “What do you need?”

He looked down, hands stuffed in his pocket. “I could be asking you that. You don’t seem to need  _me_  anymore.”

“Pardon?” Seijuurou’s brows rose.

“I’m sorry I kept you waiting, Seijuurou.” He flashed his eyes up at him. “It was a pretty vague wish, and I did my best to fulfill it, but it took me a while to create an entire life for myself in this world where I’d had none.”

The air in Seijuurou’s lungs stilled. He had to remind himself to breathe. “What’s your name?”

“Furihata,” he answered, “Kouki.”

“Kouki?”

Kouki smiled. “Seijuurou.”

In moments he’d crossed the gap between them, and pulled Kouki to his chest. Kouki held him back, just as tight. “How?”

“It wasn’t easy.” He fisted his hands against Seijuurou’s back. “I had to find a good family, fit myself in, and turn into a human…I’m not even sure how I managed the last part. Then I had to track you down. I thought about joining a basketball team, but I wasn’t sure it would work—but then the team was doing well, and even played you in the Winter Cup! I missed my chance to get to you sooner.”

“You go to Seirin?” Seijuurou pulled back, just a bit, to see Kouki’s face.

He nodded. “I think I’ll join the team next year. It looks fun.”

Seijuurou grinned. “It is.” He pressed their foreheads together. “I missed you.”

Kouki didn’t have to raise his chin much to brush their noses. “Me too.” He closed his eyes briefly and sighed, a pleased sound. “It’s nice, being able to touch you like this. I’d always wondered what it would be like.”

“I love you,” Seijuurou murmured.

“I love you, too.” Kouki brought a hand to his face, and wiped his thumb beneath his eye. “Don’t cry.”

“I can’t help it.” He leaned into the touch. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

He did. And then he did it again.

“I like that,” Kouki said, when they’d finished. “We should do it again, sometime.”

“We will,” Seijuurou promised.

Kouki rested his head on Seijuurou’s shoulder. “I’ve never had a life before. I’m not sure what to do with it.”

“In that case, I have a wish.” He cupped the back of Kouki’s neck. “Let’s find out together?”

Kouki’s breath fanned, warm and gentle, against his jaw. “I can grant that wish.”


End file.
